


The Magician Part 2

by LeatherandSaltyBitters



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Arcana - Freeform, F/F, Hathe, Prologue, nadia - Freeform, the arcana - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeatherandSaltyBitters/pseuds/LeatherandSaltyBitters
Relationships: Apprentice/Nadia (The Arcana), Nadia/Hathe
Kudos: 8





	The Magician Part 2

Keeping her ear to the front door, Hathe listened intently for a minute or so longer. What exactly she was hoping to hear even she didn’t know. She was hardly going to hear sinister whispers and mutterings about killing the shopkeeper. BUT WHAT IF SHE DID. It would be easier to just get a peephole in the door. She couldn’t even peek out the window to see who it might be … and she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t in because they would have almost certainly have heard her and Asra talking before he left.

There had to be some sort of spell that allows you to temporarily see through doors, walls, solid objects. She made a mental note to look into that. Failing that, back to the peephole plan. She was still a huge fan of not opening the door.

Still the only thing greater than Hathe’s innate desire to keep customers out after hours was her curiosity. And she’d left this poor bastard out in the fog for a good few minutes now while she um-ed and ah-ed about what to do. She’d never forgive herself if it was anyone unsavoury, though. If she got herself murdered and/or robbed within five minutes of Asra leaving … embarrassing. Try to avoid that if possible.

Carefully, hesitantly, silently swearing, Hathe undid the latches on the door, turned the key on every lock and opened the door. She didn’t have a chance to even ask what the visitor wanted before a shimmering figure in a flurry of purple and turquoise swished past her, the scent of jasmine and white patchouli lingering around them.

“Forgive me for the hour … but I will not suffer another sleepless night.” The visitor had already started unwrapping the elegant lavender shawl from about their head. Hathe pushed the front door shut with her foot and moved forward to pocket the tarot deck from the counter. Wouldn’t be a great idea to have it stolen within minutes of being given it.

It was a good job she had already shoved them in her pocket before she turned to see the visitor’s face or she almost certainly would have dropped them.

Countess Nadia.

Of Vesuvia.

The Countess Nadia of Vesuvia.

She had just let THE Countess of Vesuvia freeze her backside off out the front of her shop. And the Countess knew she had been in the whole time. Okay, THIS was embarrassing. Hathe would have welcomed a cheeky little robbery at that stage.

The only positive was the Countess didn’t appear angry. Tired … weary, yes. But not agitated. Hathe might keep her head after all.

“You are Hathe, yes?”

… Hathe had perhaps only seen her from far away once. Possibly passing through the town square … maybe. Honestly if she had drawn a large crowd, which was extremely likely, Hathe probably would have been more concerned with trying to get from one side of the square to the other without losing it. Up close … very beautiful. As tired as her eyes were, they were disarmingly pretty. She hadn’t ever seen crimson eyes before. And the hair … cerise into amaranthine … She was … lovely. Oh. She had said something. To her. It took a moment to register the question and the whole time the Countess’s eyes observed her with mild amusement as the silence dragged on, her lips twitching upwards. Left it too late to answer now. Style it out. By saying nothing. Smooth.

“You needn’t be alarmed,” the Countess continued, her voice becoming softer and kinder as if Hathe was a cat on the street she was trying to coax over. Oh, great. She was going to think she was an idiot. “I am here for no more nefarious reason than to beg your aid.”

Aid? From Hathe? My Lady … I couldn’t find my backside with both hands. How on earth could I aid you?

“I think you’ve come to the wrong place … “ She had to be looking for Asra. Unless she was desperately needing aid in finding some arhada leaves or some crumbled gneiss in which case Hathe could help. Otherwise she was probably as much help as a spoon in a knife-fight.

The Countess arched one elegant eyebrow at her, gaze sweeping over the shop. Uh-oh, she had annoyed her already.

“This is the place. I know it.” Her annoyance was gone as quickly as it came. “These walls, these wares . . .” she continued wistfully, “ … and you. I’ve seen them all in my dream.”

Countess Nadia had dreamt about her? Nice. Wait … what?

“Dream?” Hathe tilted her head.

The Countess hesitated for a moment, choosing every word with great care.

“A dream, yes. An unwelcome ability I have come to possess. Mine are … often haunted by visions of the future waiting to unfold.” She seemed unsettled, concerned. “But the future I saw, the one that brought me to you … is one that I will not allow to pass.”

Figured that the dream the Countess would have of her would be a nightmare. Never mind. Moving on. Prophetic dreams … Hathe had been curious about somnimancy for some time but hadn’t met anyone who actually experienced them first hand.

“It was your face I saw when I awoke. Your name on my lips. Your reputation precedes you. Nobles and beggars alike … the people of this city whisper your name in wonder.”

Hmm, right. That Hathe … sometimes on a Thursday she’ll give you more snakeweed than you asked for because she always orders too much. . . ooh … ahh … Some say she can reach almost all of the shelves without a step ladder … amazing …

She had to be talking about someone else. Or Asra. What possible reputation could Hathe have? True, people in the market would sometimes whisper about her. While she was there. That was annoying. Difficult to eat your own bodyweight in pumpkin bread when you can feel eyes on you. It hadn’t felt like reverent respect though … It had just made her feel out of place. But it didn’t stop her from inhaling all that bread. So much bread. The Countess gazed around the shop again like she was ticking off everything she had seen in her dream, looking for affirmation that she was in the right place.

“I do not consult magicians,” she continued with a look of something close to disdain. “Too many are charlatans who peddle false miracles.” To Hathe’s surprise, the Countess’s face softened and she seemed to … blush? “But you … you are different, somehow. Hear out my proposal, Hathe. That is all I ask.”

Okay, I will marry you. Next question.

“Alright … what’s this proposal?” Even if Hathe was highly doubtful she could be any help, there was no real harm in listening to what she had to say. It was unusual certainly. She wondered whether she could nick some of that as a pick-up line. I saw you in my dream … your name on my lips …

The Countess smiled, seemingly forgetting the careful restraint she no doubt usually held herself with as relief was written on every inch of her face. “Are you nervous perhaps? You needn’t be. I require very little of you. Come to the Palace as my guest. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I only ask you bring your skills with the Arcana to assist me in a . . . sensitive matter.” She drew a deep breath. Steely determination glinted behind her ruby eyes. “That is, the investigation into the murder of my late husband, Count Lucio.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute.

“As I am sure you know, his death remains unresolved after three long years, his killer still at large. And I am afraid rumour and hearsay has blocked my attempts to find the truth on my own.” She fixed Hathe with a thoughtful gaze, as if just by looking at her all the mysteries would find their solutions in her no doubt gormless and baffled gaze. “When he lived, my husband was quite fond of revelry. His birthday Masquerade was … particularly notorious. A riotous revel for all in Vesuvia.” The Countess narrowed her eyes. “But at the height of the last Masquerade, he was murdered in his own bedchamber. Consumed by flames, or so it is said.”

Hathe frowned. “So it is said?”

Countess Nadia glanced at the shop door, lowering her voice to a soft murmur. Lady, unless there’s someone following you, there’s no one else out at this time of night skulking around my door … wait, are you being followed?

“I now suspect that there is more to the story. A darker truth hidden beneath the surface. I hope a skilled magician might help me bring that truth to light. That you might help. For the good of Vesuvia as a whole … and for my own peace of mind.”

A skilled magician indeed … If Asra hadn’t already gone, Hathe could point the Countess in his direction. Not that she didn’t want to help, she just wasn’t sure she could. She only just got given the tarot deck and while she wasn’t too shabby at translating what they wanted to tell her, she was still just a beginner really. But … Countess Nadia sounded so confident, so unwaveringly certain that Hathe was exactly who she was looking for. But she had based this all on a dream. If Hathe had believed all of her dreams, she would have turned upstairs into a ferret sanctuary and covered herself in little gold bells like she had dreamt last Wednesday. A dream of some shopkeeper you saw in passing perhaps once in town is not a good basis to hire someone to investigate your dead husband’s murder.

“I’m not sure, Countess … “

Countess Nadia waved Hathe’s words away. “Ah, but I am. At the very least, will you humour me by visiting the palace tomorrow? I would be happy to explain the situation further, when the hour is not so late.”

Hathe mulled it over. Worse comes to worst, she would get a day out at the Palace, have a mooch around, maybe have some fancy food, hear the Countess out and when it was revealed she was absolutely useless, she could toddle off home with a story to tell Asra when he got back. There was no harm in it. And if she could actually help … well, she’d cross that bridge when she got to it. She nodded her agreement.

“Do you know your way to the Palace?” the Countess asked.

Oh yeah, I’m up there all the time for afternoon tea. “ No, I’ve never had a reason to travel up there.”

Countess Nadia smiled amicably. “I see. Then I shall arrange an escort for you. Make your way to the marketplace tomorrow morning. Portia, my most trusted servant, shall meet you there. But before I leave you … I want to see these talents of yours for myself. Shall we do a reading?”

Hathe had to stop herself from making a little uncertain welp. She just had to remind herself that it was all practice. Besides, it would be interesting to hear what the cards had to say. Probably ‘You’ve picked the wrong magician. Try again.’

She ushered the Countess into the backroom. Hathe followed the trail of perfume and sat across from her, pulling the cards from her pocket. All the while the Countess’s eyes darted around the backroom, taking in every detail. Hathe wondered whether she had seen this in her dream too. She shuffled the deck as the Countess closed her eyes and folded her hands in front of her on the table.

Hathe peered down at the vulpine head she had been tracing only ten or so minutes before. “… The Magician.”

Eyes still closed, Countess Nadia smiled. “How very appropriate. And what does the Magician hold for me?”

The answer came to Hathe as clearly as ever. But … she doubted whether the Countess would be impressed. After all she had already told Hathe, she would definitely think she was a charlatan now. Oh well, she had asked.

“You have a plan. One that’s important to you.”

Her eyes flickered open, fixing Hathe with an intense gaze, her eyes flashing in the lamplight. “And? Should I set it in motion?”

“Yes. Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place.”

“Say no more.”

Abruptly, the Countess stood, giving the card one last glance before sweeping back into the shop.

“Your fortunes are straightforward. Much the same as the others I’ve heard. And yet … you are the first to pique my interest.” The Countess had already started to wind her head scarf back around her head, before stopping a few steps from the front door. She cleared her throat.

Hathe stood in the entrance to the backroom. What? The Countess was waiting for something. Oh. The door. She hurried over to the front door, suppressing a shiver as the evening air hit her.

“Pleasant dreams, Hathe,” the Countess said with a faint smile before gliding out into the night. Hathe stood at the door, staring out into the mist long after she had vanished. Well, that was … peculiar.

Finally, Hathe closed the door and locked up again. She had to keep reminding herself that it was the Countess who approached her. She might disappoint her but that wasn’t on her. She didn’t even know what she expected her to do! How would the Arcana help? Was she expected to go around doing everyone’s reading until she found the murderer? Hmm, looks like the cards say … you’re a bitch. Take ‘im away, boys … Well, that was a problem for tomorrow’s Hathe. She started putting out the lanterns. Today’s Hathe needed her bed, a cup of tea, a few hours sleep before her early start meeting this escort. Portia … hmm, the name was sort of familiar but only in a marketplace gossip sort of way. Certainly couldn’t put a face to her. Her fortunes were straightforward . . . much like everyone else’s … Should she start dressing them up a bit? Drag out the tension? More dramatic pauses?

“Strange hours for a shop to keep.” A harsh, muffled voice spoke amidst the shadows that danced across the walls.

Oh, come on!


End file.
